Old Gods
by In Medias Res
Summary: The war between the High Heavens and Burning Hells is threatened by a creation of mankind.


Disclaimer: Diablo and Diablo II characters and games are the sole property of Blizzard.  
  
--Old Gods--  
  
The demon slowly appraised the Lesser Evils and their minions that had gathered before him. The seeds of discord had been carefully and almost...artistically (the demon smiled to itself as it thought this) planted and as they say "You reap what you sow". A war was brewing in the fiery pits of Hell. And that's exactly how the demon wanted it. He could hear the screams of terror the ensuing battle would throw into the rancid, stale air. From his throne, crafted of flesh, blood and bone, he gazed out across the vasty plains of despair at another throne in the distance. The horned demon sitting their gazed back and smiled, pleased with the seething rage and hatred that stirred with in the assembly before them. The demon returned the smile and turned his head to the left at another throne, equally as distant. There was another throne and the festering demon sitting upon smiled cruelly, already relishing in the destruction that would follow from this war that the three of them had instigated. With one last look upon the raging chaos before him, aching with all its dark heart to break free, the demon roared. The other two demons, sitting on their thrones, unleashed a roar and all of Hell erupted in war.  
  
They lost, the Prime Evils. Mephisto, Diablo, and Baal had fallen before the Lesser Evils. Of course, they had planned it this way. The Lesser Evils had banished them to the mortal realm, a place virtually uncorrupted by their taint.  
  
For now.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Soil. How long has it been since I felt soil? Eons at least. I open my eyes to a field of green. I dig my claws into the soft earth and struggle to find the strength to stand. I...I'm here! The mortal realm! But...but where are my brothers? I glance around and see nothing but field. Mephisto, Baal, where have they gone? The wind blows over me and I feel relief! Ever since I was condemned to that cursed prison of Hell, I haven't felt a cold breeze since my consciousness. I like this place. I think I will make this my new home. I rest in my place for a while when a small creature wanders over to me. It had fur all over its head. Long fur. Curiously there was no fur anywhere else on it. It walked on only two of its appendages and its light skin seemed to serve no protection at all. I could hear its blood rushing through its body, but most importantly I could sense its fear. The thing screamed shrilly, an interesting scream that excited me. It ran, too slowly to make any sport of. I wonder if there's more of these things. Yes...run little one, show me where you live. This will prove...interesting.  
  
Boring. The little thing had led me to a small village of other things. Some were bigger others smaller, all offered little challenge. I thought there would be some promise in the muscular ones, but they were just as easy to cut through. And these metal things they wore...they must have thought it would protect them. I almost laughed. The village burns slowly and I take the time to examine these things. The little ones, the young...I find them most intriguing. The smallest ones were too stupid to emit any feelings, but the one that were a little older were much more fun. They had -terror-. So innocent, and then to be faced with certain death...it was the purest fear I have ever felt. It was delicious. Then the older ones. Most went down without a fight, but some tried to defy me! That amused me for a while until one had a sharp piece of metal that it jabbed into my side. By reflex I unleashed an inferno and the village had fallen. I could easily make out the differences between the older ones. Some of them were smaller and slight of build. They let out beautiful screams. The others were bigger, broad-shouldered and powerfully built. They were the ones who hurt me. Now they lay as smoldering corpses.  
  
I continue my rampage, finding village after village and decimating each one of them. I believe that word of my presence traveled and I begin to wonder whether revealing myself was such a good idea. There seems to be an endless supply of these fleshy creatures. Each village I run into is much larger than the last and the fleshy things are ready for me. They have weapons, powerful ones that can pierce my hide. But sooner or later, they all fall before me.  
  
As the sun rises, I plow through the walls of another large village, but already I can sense that this one is different. Where are the prey? Before me are a dozen of them, slight in build. Some are broad-shouldered but others are of the smaller variety. They stare at me defiantly. I smile, knowing that they will not last long. One of the small ones hurls a blue bolt at me. I am filled with unimaginable cold. The other small ones rain down shards of ice and bolts of cold and I am frozen to the core. I sense no terror from these things. Why? I try to move, but I find that I cannot. I feel hellish rage burning up inside me, but I am too frozen to nurture the fire. I cannot cast my spells. When they finish their hailstorm, they all turn to me and hurl rays of bright light at me. The light wraps around my arms, legs, tail, and head. They are chaining me down! How DARE they! I struggle beneath their magical chains, but already I feel my strength leaving me. I fall to the ground with a thundering crash and my vision blackens.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Well...this is interesting. I claw at the wall but it shows no signs of weakening. These things...these...-humans-. They have imprisoned me in a crystal. No, I do not like this at all. The humans continually surprise me. They are all so different, I doubt that any two are the same. They will be difficult to control, but I will have them. I just need to wait. Yes. I will wait.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
I open my eyes for the first time in...wait. Where am I? The room is small, but dank and filled with dust and mildew. The last I remember...yes! Mephisto had opened the Infernal portal. I was to be the harbinger of our arrival. But...that group of humans. They followed me all the way to the Chaos Sanctuary itself. I remember a brilliant battle. I had the upper hand for the beginning of the battle. But the humans, they were all so different. One had cast some sort of spell and I felt my very spirit weaken. I had been cursed! Another commanded the elements and froze me in place. Beasts and skeletons came at me, while the might of heaven slammed into my chest. Claws and axes and spears and bows beat into my flesh in a horrible storm. I lashed out with all the fury of hell in an inferno of brimstone. Many warriors fell, but one came from behind and stabbed me with his sword. They shattered my soulstone and I was hurled back into the Abyss.  
  
But now, before me in this dusty place, I see a small, timid human, not older than twenty years. He has a nervous smile and is bowing repeatedly at me.  
  
"Great Diablo, the Fallen One, the Serpent of Old, Beelzebub..."  
  
"Where...am I, human?" I feel too weak to argue that the titles he stuttered are not mine.  
  
"Los Angeles." I do not recognize the name.  
  
"What year is it?"  
  
"2004." I eye him for a moment. He cringes under my glare and lets out a small whimper.  
  
"What do you want from me, mortal?"  
  
"I live only to serve you, Diablo, the Fallen One, the Serpent..."  
  
"Enough."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"You wish to be the harbinger of my arrival? You look as though you could barely wield a sword."  
  
"Swords? We use guns now. Missiles. Bombs. Wow, you've been gone a long time haven't you?"  
  
"Tell me why I shouldn't slay you where you stand." His eyes grow wide and he begins to shudder. The terror was amazing.  
  
"Be-because I can help you."  
  
"You? Help me? The Prime Evils have stood the test of time for eons without aid from mortals."  
  
"You won't last in the city." Before I can speak again, he removes a small metal object from his pants and points it at me.  
  
"And what is that?"  
  
"A gun. Lots of people have them. You'd go down in seconds." I know I should tear his head off. No mortal has ever addressed me like that. No mortal has addressed me, period.  
  
"Use it."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Use that thing on me. We'll see how powerful your magic is." The mortal stares at me and then at the weapon and back at me again. He is afraid, that I can tell. He points it at me and fires it. My arm blazes with pain as bright as steel. I roar and clutch my wound. A small piece of metal is in me and I furiously yank it out. I turn to glare at the man, but he has backed away considerably.  
  
"You wish to serve me, mortal? Fine." I focus my energies on him. I reach into his thoughts and find a place where I will fit comfortably. Yes. There. I move my spirit from my body into his. The boy's spirit dies instantly and my former body collapses with a thud.  
  
I look around. Am I in a dungeon? The musty walls are covered with assorted posters, none of which are familiar to me. I search the boy's thoughts. Rock groups. Nude women. A festering mind, this child has. I think I did it a service by removing it. There is a mattress and an odd glowing box beside it. Food and clothing litter the floor. I am in a house. I storm up the stairs and passed an annoying little woman who yells at me about the noise I made. I cannot risk revealing myself so I ignore her and leave the home.  
  
Times have changed, indeed. I am surrounded by concrete and metal. Buildings taller than any castle I have seen. The sky is dark and there is little evidence of the sun beyond the smog. I sniff the air and am greatly disturbed. Not a single person was feeling terror or fear. I look around. At least one hundred people standing around me and I can only taste a hint of fear. I keep walking down the street, taking in the air.   
  
I find it interesting how little conversation is going on. There are so many humans walking about, but nothing is being -said-. Nothing of importance. Meaningless lives too wrapped up in themselves to give a care to anyone else. I see people living in the streets, a dead body in the alley, but the humans just keep on walking. Preoccupied with some pathetic task, they all want to think their lives are interesting, but deep down I can sense they don't believe that.   
  
I thought I liked this new world, but as I walk among the crowds, I notice that I have yet to pick up on any powerful feelings. Terror is my gift, but I cannot sense happiness or joy or hatred or anything. I am already feeling weak.  
  
I walk for hours. The persona that I am using draws little attention. It seems as though no one even glances at me. I run into someone. I am about to keep moving when the person lays a hand on my shoulder. I look up.  
  
"Diablo."  
  
"Tyrael?"  
  
"Yes, it is me." Tyrael is in the form of another man, only older than the one I've possessed.  
  
"Tyrael, I have only been awake for a few hours. Has the war between Heaven and Hell been won?" Tyrael pauses.  
  
"No, Diablo. It has not." I tense my young body, preparing for battle.  
  
"So, shall we duel here? You and I have a score to settle."  
  
"No." I hesitate. A trick, perhaps?  
  
"Why not?" At that moment, two other figures, both men, arrive at my side. I instantly recognize them.  
  
"Mephisto! Baal! It has been so long!"  
  
"Too long, one might say." Baal mutters sadly.  
  
"Baal, what is the matter? It is great to be back on the mortal realm. Our war remains unfinished. We must let the tides of the Burning Hells through! Complete our quest!"  
  
"It is not that easy, brother." Mephisto whispers.  
  
"There is no more Burning Hells, nor High Heavens." Tyrael announces. I stop breathing. His words cut through me.  
  
"What are you talking about, angel?"  
  
"It seems as though we were created out of the mortal's dreams."  
  
"What?! That cannot be true! I refuse to accept it! I am the Lord of Terror, not some child's nightmare!" Mephisto lays a hand on my shoulder.  
  
"Brother, the angel is right. There is no Hell to unleash, no Heaven to combat." I look to Baal for reassurance. He nods and I feel a terrible weight descend on me. My entire existence...gone.  
  
"And the war?" I ask.  
  
"Done. Left unfinished. The mortals have forgotten us." Baal answers.  
  
"How could something like this happen?"  
  
"There is a new dream amongst the mortals. It is called Apathy. It is the anti-dream, the opposite of all feeling." Tyrael explains.  
  
"Well then we must go destroy it." Baal shifts uncomfortably and then answers me.  
  
"There is nothing to destroy. Apathy has no physical body. It simply -is-. The mortals have been consumed by it. They don't care about us any more." My mind races. This simply cannot be true. I...I am the Lord of Terror. Mortals have feared my very name for generations. And now they've forgotten me?  
  
"I noticed...as I was walking...that I couldn't sense anything from them." Mephisto nods.  
  
"We all first noticed this when we were called into being."  
  
"Every once in a while an angel or demon in disguise might perform some act that kindles a flame of passion in these mortals, but the embers soon die out and we are forgotten again." Baal adds. I turn to Tyrael.   
  
"So what is it that we do now?"  
  
"Now? We don't do anything. We wait out the rest of our existence, before we are forgotten as well."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"And then...we die." There was an awkward silence as I stared at my brothers and the angel. They are telling the truth. I feel empty. I am nothing more than a useless spirit, a shadow of what I once was. No one cares. Tyrael speaks again.  
  
"This is the last time you will see me." I look towards him.  
  
"Where will you go?"  
  
"I'm not sure. I will wander about, enjoying what's left of my existence, and then I will become part of the forgotten past." The angel extends his hand to me. We clasp wrists, two warriors of a battle of old, hardened by war...and now forgotten. The angel lets go.  
  
"Farewell, old friends." The angel turns and walks away to be claimed by the past. I turn to my brothers. Together, we stand in this Los Angeles, the Prime Evils.  
  
"And you my brothers?" Mephisto shakes his head.  
  
"I will do the same. There is not much else to do here but to waste away. In the past, the dark flames of hatred fueled my soul. Now, there is nothing. I am empty." We clasp wrists and he, too, leaves me.  
  
"And you, Baal?"  
  
"There is no room left in this world for a couple of old gods. All we can do is wait. I had once held out hope that the humans would remember the old days and I could feel the urge to destroy again...but I've given up. They won't return to the old ways. Even magic has died. Goodbye, youngest brother." We clasp wrists and I am left alone.  
  
I lean backwards into the cold, lifeless concrete of a building. Slowly, I slide down until I touch the frigid sidewalk. I close my eyes and try to relive memories of the past, but nothing will come to me. I am already forgetting. I open my eyes slightly. People walk passed. No one notices me, save for a few who glare at me with disgust. They truly have no feeling left. They do not care about the stories of old. Tomes and volumes and folklore are not important to them and even the heroes fade away from memory. I close my eyes and give myself over to cold emptiness inside of me. Hundreds upon hundreds of mortals walk by the Lord of Terror, the scourge of humanity, the harbinger of Hell.  
  
And no one cares. 


End file.
